


kiss on my list

by professortennant



Category: Stargate SG-1
Genre: F/M, Kissing, Prompt Collections
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-08
Updated: 2018-10-09
Packaged: 2019-06-07 06:39:54
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 8
Words: 5,095
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15213380
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/professortennant/pseuds/professortennant
Summary: kiss. verb. to touch with the lips as a sign of love, sexual desire, reverence, or greeting.(or, a collection of tumblr prompts about kissing)





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> S/J prompt: raking a hand through the hair & getting a good handful to pull the person closer

Jack was leaning lazily against the passenger side of his car, sun beating down on him, his ballcap and sunglasses shielding him from the worst of it. Around him, the hustle and bustle of the airport carport provided background noise, but his eyes were fixed firmly on the figure in front of him. 

This–being the one left behind, waiting and waiting for her, not knowing if she was safe–was new. But the thrill of having her back home, the cut of her in her uniform, the flush spreading across her cheeks, the impending feel of her in his arms made it all worth it. 

He grinned at her, pushing off the car. “Welcome home, soldier,” he drawled.

Sam smiled broadly and crossed the distance between them quickly, her duffel falling to the ground with a  _thud_  and her heels clicking across the concrete.  

He let out a soft  _oomph_  as her body collided with his, her hands curling into the front of his threadbare tee and her hips pushing into his. Her mouth slanted over his, her sigh of satisfaction rumbling through his lips and into his chest. He held her tight, hands roaming over her back and ghosting over the swell of her ass. Sam grinned into the kiss and pulled back with a gentle nip at his bottom lip. 

“Happy to see me?”

He cocked his head to the side and pretended to think, lips parted and tongue behind his teeth. "Well, I  _was_  just gonna grab the first soldier I saw. Just lucky for me you showed up first, I guess.”

She rolled her eyes and moved to step away from him, but he wasn’t having it. 

“Hey, hey, hey,” he cajoled, hand slipping up over he back and neck and into her hair. It was in a half-ponytail, just pulled back enough to keep it from her eyes. The strands brushed over her shoulders, curling softly. 

“Your hair got long,” he commented, fingers buried in her hair, his nails scraping over her scalp and tugging on the strands slightly. She hummed and her eyes fluttered closed at the sensation. 

“Yeah, well, they didn’t exactly have a salon on board.” 

“I like it,” he said, voice low. “A lot.”

He hauled her in close, already missing having her nearby. His mouth covered hers once more and the noises of the airport fell into the background as he anchored her to his mouth, fingers scraping and stroking over her neck, her hair tangling in his hands. 

She clung to him, arms looping around his neck and reaching up to knock the ballcap from his head so she could get her own fingers into the fine hairs at the base of his neck. 

This wasn’t them–not normally. They weren’t prone to displays of public affection, but it had been  _so damn long_  and after years of repressing, of fighting, it seemed silly to not kiss, to not touch, to not  _be_  just because some families were coming back from vacation.

Besides, she was unbearably hot in her dress uniform and he’d really, really missed her. He grinned when she mewled against his mouth and pressed him back against the car, thigh slotting between his legs and providing him with friction. It was too much–heat and pleasure and  _Sam._

He pulled back, breathless, hands tugging lightly on her hair. His lips trailed over her cheek and towards her ear. “Get in the car, Sam.”

The wind blew her hair around her face and highlighted the brightness of her eyes. 

He thought about gathering her hair up in his hands and kissing her neck; thought about her hair pulled up in a ponytail and using that ponytail to guide her head over his body; thought about tugging that ponytail while he fucked her from behind and pressed himself inside her; thought about running his hands through her long hair hair as she slept upon his chest. 

She must have seen the heat in his eyes because she kissed his cheek and saluted at him, lazy and improper. “Oh, yes, sir.” 


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sam/Jack + staring at each other's lips before giving in; inspired by Sydney and Vaughn's first kiss (from Alias).

Around them, Jaffa tended to their wounded, began collecting bodies and burying their fallen. Fires burned brightly where staff and energy blasts smoldered into flame and the enemy was led to holding cells.

The Goa’uld were defeated. Earth–the universe, the galaxy–was safe. And at the head of it al: SG-1. 

Jack panted, out of breath with the exertion of battle, his shoulders and arms aching from the P90s kickback. His face was streaked with dirt and blood, his skin slick with sweat and grime of a dusty planet millions of lightyears from home. 

They did it; they won. 

Across the battlefield, he caught sight of his second in command, face as streaked in dirty and sweat at his own, weapon hanging from her vest, a smile stretched wide upon her face–a smile of victory and triumph. With a turn of her head, their eyes met and his breath caught.

His mind flashed back to a shared conversation they had in hushed tones over blue jello and pie:  _Someday. When the Goa’uld are defeated, when the war is over, we’ll have our someday._

They moved towards each other without thought, feet carrying them over uneven terrain but never stumbling. Today was someday; today was another victory. 

She reached him first, her hands fisting into his tactical vest, her body shaking. His hands went to her waist, a steadying countermeasure. He grinned at her, eyes soft. 

“Hiya, Carter.”

She beamed, beautiful against a war-torn backdrop. “Hi, sir.”

His eyes dropped to her lips, noticing the drop of blood in the corner from a hit to the head earlier, the already-pink flesh darkened. Clearing his throat and tightening his hand on her waist, drawing her in closer, he looked up at her. 

“I think we said someday, uh, one day. And, it feels an awful like someday today.” He frowned, the words not coming as easily or as suavely as he’d hoped. But Carter didn’t seem to mind, her eyes sparkling and teeth sinking into her bottom teeth. He noted, with pride, that her own eyes flicked down to his mouth, her breath hitching and her tongue swiping out over her lips, moistening them. 

“Yeah, it feels like someday,” she answered softly, eyes still on his mouth. He hooked his finger under her chin and lifted her face to his. 

His eyes crinkled at the corners as he smiled at her, “Sweet.”

And with that, he covered her lips with his, groaning immediately at the taste of her: metallic and sweet and  _Sam._ His hands ghosted up her side and to her cheeks, fingerless gloves brushing over her cheeks and the short strands of her at her temple. 

Her fingers held his head between her hands, holding him to her, as if terrified he would evaporate. It should have been awkward and strange–making out for the first time on a distant planet, years and years of build-up culminating in a single moment.

Instead, it felt inexplicably  _right._  Their heads tilted and moved in sync, tongues swiping over lips and teeth and the sensitive roof of their mouths. Around them, the planet burned and victory chants had started, but all they cared about was the taste and feel of the other. 

Distantly, they heard Daniel’s voice just to the right of them. “Uh, guys? Guys! We did it! The Goa’uld are gone and the Jaffa are fre–And you don’t care. Okay, good, cool, Just–keep kissing, I guess.”

And so, they did.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> a hoarse whisper “kiss me” + pre-season 8

Sam coughed, wincing at the taste of blood in her mouth, her lungs burning with effort. Beside her, Teal’c mediated while Jonas paced back and forth in front of the cell, eyes sharp on the guards who watched on dispassionately. 

A warm, secure arm wrapped around her shoulders and kept her close, fingers stroking rhythmically against her shoulder and upper arms. She shook with fever and burrowed closer to the warmth, sighing. 

Nirrti’s experiments pulled on the very strands of her DNA, stretching and unraveling until she wasn’t sure if she was alive, if she was a  _person_  anymore. 

Warm lips pressed to the top of her head and a low, rumbling voice echoed softly in her ear. “Easy, Sam.” Another press of lips–secret, illicit, and warming. “Sleep.”

SG-1 had gotten out of many scrapes before, but Sam couldn’t see a way out of this. She would be taken again and unraveled and she would die. Jack, Jonas, and Teal’c could do nothing more. This, she had accepted, was the end.

She groaned and pushed herself up, palm flat on his chest, struggling. Jack’s arms supported her, helping her sit up. “Hey, easy. You need to rest before Biology 101 in a few hours.”

Sam licked her lips and met his eyes, shaking fingertips skimming over the sharp cheekbones and jaw of her commander’s face. “Jack,” she said, softly, throat sore from her earlier screams. 

Jack shifted, his arm tightening around her and face pressing into her gentle touch. “I’m going to get you out of here,” he promised. “Just–just hold on, Major.”

She shook her head, knowing that no matter how hard Jack tried, she would not be returning to the cell after Nirrti took her. This was it–her last moments with Jack; six years of repression, hoping for a lifetime after ‘someday,’ and instead getting six minutes. 

Sam coughed again and swallowed, pressing closer. Her voice, when she spoke, was hoarse, low and determined. “Kiss me.”

He looked pained, his fingertips pushing her hair back, cupping her face and thumb stroking her cheekbone. “Sam…”

If he kissed her, if he crossed this line– _now_ , when they had gotten out of so much worse without doing so–it would be giving up. It would be goodbye.

He hated goodbyes.

But she was staring up at him with those big blue eyes of hers, face relaxed and open and lips gently parted, blood speckling the corners of her mouth and chin. He leaned forward and pressed his forehead to hers, shuddering. 

Slowly, ever so slowly, he tilted his head and brushed his lips to hers, licking away the blood and sweat, sipping at her lips until he could taste only  _her:_ Samantha Carter, sweet and sharp and perfect. 

One hand curled into his tee while the other slipped up to hold onto his face, fingers wrapping around the shell of his ear and keeping him close. He let out a muffled groan, frustration and desire and helplessness pouring into her. 

Six years of waiting, the goal of a future together–of endless kisses amidst the sunshine, of water lapping at the cabin’s dock as he threw her into the lake, of lazy mornings and heated afternoons and desperate nights, of a  _future_. 

And it all came down to this: one first and last kiss. 

She stroked his hair as he broke the kiss and buried his head into the crook of her neck, shuddering. His mouth pressed to the tendons of her neck, laving the expanse of skin there, content to feel her rapidly-beating heart against his tongue. 

“I’m not giving up,” he promised her, fingertips leaving bruises against her back and hips. “I’m getting you out of this and we’re having our someday. No more waiting.”

She rolled forward and dropped her head into his neck, nuzzling beneath his ear. “I know,” she whispered, breathing in the scent of him: Jack and sweat and pine. “I know.”

They sat in Nirrti’s cell clinging to each other, Jack a human shield between Sam and the future, waiting. If nothing else, they had this exact moment: six minutes together–Sam and Jack.


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> lazy morning kisses before they’ve even opened their eyes, still mumbling half-incoherently, not wanting to wake up

Sam’s consciousness danced along the edge of sleep and wakefulness. Her body felt lax and warm, a strong arm wrapped around her waist and a nose nuzzled up under her ear. 

She stretched back, fingertips dancing up his arm and reaching behind her to stroke the fine, greying hairs alongside his temple. Sunlight trickled into the room, rays of sunlight warming their shared bed and heating the wood floors of the cabin so the air smelled of wood and pine. 

“Jack,” she sighed, eyes still closed, fingers stroking alongside his temple and hips rolling back into his morning hardness. When he didn’t respond she sighed and moved to roll out of bed, intent on getting a pot of coffee started. 

However, his arm tightened around her waist and hauled her back into bed. She laughed, looking over her shoulder at him. His eyes were still closed but there was a smile playing about his lips. 

“No getting up before 0800 on vacation,” he mumbled, voice husky with sleep. “Vacation rules.”

Sam rolled her eyes and turned in his arms, hands wandering over his bare chest, fingers threading through his chest hair and down over his abdomen. He was adorable this early in the morning–half-awake, half-asleep, his hair tousled and sticking up every which way, skin warm from a long night’s sleep wrapped around her.

Sam slipped a leg between his thighs and pressed her lips to his, grinning against his mouth when his arm sneaked beneath her body, wrapping around her tightly. 

“Don’t start something you can’t finish, Sam.” He groaned and opened one eye blearily. 

She pressed another kiss to his lips, tongue swiping over the seam of his mouth briefly, before breaking the kiss and peppering a series of kisses over his jaw and cheek. “C’mon, Jack. Coffee and breakfast await.”

Jack snuggled back into the bed, drawing the blankets up over their tangled bodies, and frowned. He rolled onto his back and brought Sam with him until she was perched half on his chest, their legs tangled together–effectively trapping her against him. 

“Breakfast can wait,” he sighed out, large hand splaying over her bare back and dipping low over the swell of her ass. 

“We need breakfast, Jack,” she pointed out with a grin, head flopping down to his chest. 

Jack just pulled the covers tighter and pressed a kiss to the top of her head. “I need you,” he corrected, eyes fluttering closed and drifting back into sleep, the warmth of the cabin, the sun, and Sam lulling him back to sleep.

She kisses his chest and hummed in pleasure, eyes fluttering closed. “Yeah, I need you, too, flyboy.” 

It  _was_  vacation after all. They had earned another hour of sleep in each other’s arms at the very least. 


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> starting with a kiss meant to be gentle, ending up in passion

It was just supposed to be a goodbye kiss–a quick peck, a ghost of a past and future they could have had as a couple; something he didn’t want to leave without knowing, at least once, what her lips tasted like.

It was supposed to to be a soft brush of lips, tinged with sadness, his hand curled loosely at her hip and his other hand anchoring her to him. Her hands hung loosely at her side and for that, he was thankful. He didn’t want to feel another man’s ring–a ring on her finger–pressed against his skin. 

This was hard enough. 

But like any other mission, like any other plan, it went full FUBAR. 

He had a plane ticket to Washington tucked into his pocket, his eyes soft, heart breaking stoically beneath his chest. Her eyes shone with unshed tears and she bit her lip, shaking her head. 

“Don’t go, sir.”

 _Sir._  It stung and only served as a reminder that if he stayed, that’s all he would ever be: a  _sir_  hopelessly in love with a woman he couldn’t legally have; a woman who was bound to be married to another man.

He swallowed hard and leaned close, “Goodbye, Sam.” 

It was just meant to be a goodbye kiss. It’s all it  _would_  have been.

Except, Sam gasped into the kiss and Jack lingered, his lips still pressed to hers, her open, parted lips inviting him for just one more taste. His tongue brushed ever-so-slightly against hers.

It was like gasoline on a fire and Sam snapped to life, hands wrapping around his neck and tugging him closer, closer, closer. Her mouth opened further beneath his and her tongue brushed over his, her moan reverberating into his mouth and through his veins. 

His arm wrapped around her waist and hauled her close, pulling her flush against him from shoulder to ankle, the soft press of her breasts against his hard chest making him groan. His fingers buried themselves into her hair and tilted her head to the side so he could deepen the kiss. 

She clung to him just a needly, just as desperately, as he clung to her. Inside his chest, his heart stuttered and roared to life and beat to a steady chant of  _Yes yes yes. Sam Sam Sam._

He broke the kiss, breathing harshly, eyes closed and forehead pressed to hers. They shared breath for a moment, just as easily as they shared everything else in life. 

“Don’t,” he pleaded with her, voice harsh and ragged with desperation, desire, and hope. “Don’t marry him. God, Sam.” He ducked his head and kissed her again, lips trailing over her jaw and cheek. “Don’t.”

She let out a little sob and clung to him, nuzzling beneath his ear and his head tucked itself into the curve of her throat and shoulder, his pleas muffled against her skin. She shook in his arms and stroked a hand through his hair, lips pressing to the side of his head where she could reach. 

“I won’t,” she confessed. “I  _can’t.”_  She shook in his arms and felt his grip on her tighten, relief causing him to sag further against her, his moan of relief rippling through her. God, they were so messed up. 

Jack pulled away from the warmth of her neck and looked at her, eyes dark and shining, hand cupping her cheek, stroking away the tears on her face. 

“This wasn’t what I intended, Sam. I was never going to say–”

She pressed a finger to his lips, smiling softly. “I know.”

He nipped at the pad of her finger and pulled her into his arms once more, desperate to hold her. They had many obstacles to overcome–Sam needed to talk to Pete, he still had to handle Washington, and they needed to adjust their command chain. 

But for now, when mere seconds ago, he was about to hold himself content with a brief, single brush of her lips to his, he would focus only on the impossible: Samantha Carter in his arms, the taste of her on his lips, and the promise of someday a lot closer than he once thought it was. 

_Sweet._


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> the soft gentle "I love you" after a kiss that leads to another

In the end, it was just them riding down a long stretch of road towards his cabin–now  _their_  cabin–the windows down and the wind whipping through her hair. Their hands rested between them on the bench, entangled and palms pressed together, his thumb occasionally stroking over the thin veins in her wrist and hers stroking over his knuckles.

In the end, it was ketchup-tinged kisses on the side of the road as Jack chased her down after she pushed his hot dog into his mouth, condiments smearing over the edges of his lips and cheeks, the road sign indicating they were entering the city limits the backdrop to their kiss.

In the end, it was Jack brushing the hair from her forehead, chest so goddamned light with a happiness he never thought he’d feel again, his lips brushing over her lips and nose and temple teasingly. They’d toppled to the grass, his truck a few feet away, and she sat between his legs while he leaned back against a pine tree. He dipped and kissed the curve of her neck, wide hand splaying over her belly, holding her to him. “Marry me, Carter.”

In the end, it was the pair of them bypassing their trip into town for groceries and supplies for the cabin in favor of stopping at city hall. Her face was stretched wide into a grin–a thousand-watt Carter smile that sent his heart racing and his limbs feeling rather warm–and she turned her face into his shoulder, wrapping herself around his arm as he filled in the paperwork and she checked ‘Single’ for the last time in her life. 

In the end, the bored-looking city official had them hold hands and repeat vows and promises that a couple of hundred thousand ordinary citizens repeated every year. She grinned, held up her crossed fingers, and stuck her tongue out at him after promising to obey him. He caught her crossed fingers and kissed them to the confusion and  _Now, really…_  of the official beside them. 

In the end, it was staring at each other open-mouthed when they were asked to exchange rings, if they so chose. They hadn’t really thought this far and then his eyes went wide and he grinned, reaching beneath his shirt and tugging his dog tags free. He dangled them before her and waggled his eyebrows. “Whaddya say, Carter?” She rolled her eyes and tugged her own tags from beneath her top and leaned forward, head ducking. He looped the tags around her neck and then mirrored her movement and tingled all over when her fingertips brushed over the skin of his neck. 

In the end, they rode towards their cabin hand-in-hand, beers and Ben and Jerry’s and burgers–a honeymoon feast–sitting in bags in the well of his truck, man and woman, husband and wife, dog tags clinking beneath their shirts. He crowded her against the freezer, kissing down her gasp of surprise as the cold stainless steel hit the skin of her lower back (his hand had already disappeared beneath her shirt and rucked up the material to touch as much of her as he could). 

In the end, he took her down the short hallway to the bedroom and kissed her soundly, lips moving over hers and tongue stroking where he knew she liked to be touch. She whimpered and clutched his shoulders and he grinned, nipping at her bottom lip and muttering an awestruck  _Wife_ into her mouth, her shoulder, into the patch of skin beneath her ear. She pulled them down to the bed and hiked a leg around his hip and sighed, palm covering the metal tag that read  _Samantha Carter_  over his heart.  _Husband_  she sighed out and grinned up at him.

In the end, pushed deep inside her, their skin slick with sweat and nerves alight, he brushes his hand through her hair and cups her jaw, hips twitching and cock pulsing inside her: a heavy, loaded moment. His brown eyes are light and unburdened, the shadows receding, when he whispers a soft, gentle “I love you.” She nuzzles her cheek into his touch and pulls him down, kisses him soundly, wraps her legs around his waist and pulls him into her deeper, closer. 

In the end, against all odds, they end up married in a no-name town in the backwoods of Minnesota, a promise of rings and a plan to sell her house later, the pair of them wrapped in a thick blanket, limbs entangled, and the quiet murmurings of  _Wife, Husband,_ and  _I love you._

In the end, they are happy.


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> kisses where one person is sitting in the other’s lap +bonus points if it's Jack sitting in Sam's lap for the smooch

Jack watched from the doorway with a grin as Sam adjusted the stretchy red pants over her bulging belly with a huff, shifting in the wide arm chair he made for her for their fifth anniversary. 

Finally comfortable, she groaned and flopped back in the chair, hand rubbing absent-mindedly over her pregnant belly and reaching for a steaming mug of green tea. 

“Y’know, Carter, you look an awful lot like a jolly red guy that’s pretty popular this time around.”

She glared at him as he approached her, blanket and lotion in hand. “Yeah? Well this,” she gestured to her stomach. “Doesn’t feel like a bowl full of jelly. And you sure as hell aren’t asking for anything else. I’m giving you your only Christmas present this year in about three weeks.”

Jack leaned down and pressed a kiss to the top of her head, draping the blanket over her shoulders, and nuzzling his nose against her, inhaling. “Does that mean I can’t sit in your lap and tell you what a good boy I’ve been this year?”

She laughed softly, the sound still managing to make Jack’s heart pick up speed. Slipping her hand into his, she tugged at his arm gently until he was half perched in her lap and half perched on the edge of the chair’s arm. 

His free hand came up to stroke soft, soothing circles on her abdomen, his face lighting up when their child kicked and shifted at his touch. Sam groaned softly, shifting in her chair and trying to get Baby Carter-O’Neill to stop using her kidney as a pillow. 

Jack’s hand drifted from her abdomen and ghosted over her sensitive breasts, not lingering too long, before cupping his wife’s cheek, stroking over her cheekbone. His expression turned mischievous and he leaned close, lips brushing over hers, drawing her bottom lip between his own. 

“Hey, Santa? I’ve been a very, very bad boy this year…”


	8. Chapter 8

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> prompt: breaking the kiss to say something, staying so close that you’re murmuring into each other’s mouths 
> 
> post-urgo.

Urgo frowns after Sam as she disappears down the hallway, telling him for the thousandth time that she can’t play tag with him right now. But he’s itching to experience new sensations in this new world and he’s been mutating and learning new emotions and a new emotion suddenly rears its head: revenge. 

He prods and searches Sam’s synapses and an area of her brain that’s teeming with energy and adrenaline and endorphins and when he pokes at it, she sighs out and shivers. To his great delight, her brain floods with images of the Colonel–his hands and lips and smile and voice and body and–

_Oh._

This is an entirely new sensation to explore and revenge is quickly forgotten in the place of the possibility of pleasure. He makes a single suggestion and watches as Sam makes an about face and heads towards the Colonel. 

* * *

Sam’s in the doorway of the room where they’ve been confined when Jack realizes the itch under his skin is under hers, too. Daniel and Teal’c are in the infirmary with Fraiser and suddenly Jack has an uncontrollable urge to touch her. 

From the way she’s leaning towards him, shuffling her weight from side to side and squeezing her legs together, looking at him with wide, desperate eyes, he knows she feels the same.

Jack has spent so long suppressing the way he feels about her that the sudden rush of  _want_  and desire makes him suspicious. He thinks of Urgo in his brain–in their brains–and he closes his eyes and clenches his jaw. If she comes to him, he wants it to be on her terms–not some alien tech’s. 

“Sam,” he manages to grit out. “You need to go.”

“I can’t,” she says, reaching for him. They’re inches away and her fingertips brush over the curve of his cheek before he shudders and presses into her touch. His lips brush her palm and she shuffles closer, sliding a hand around his waist and one around the back of his head.

“Please.”

And then his lips are on hers and neither one of them are thinking about consequences or why they can’t and shouldn’t do this. Every barrier and wall they’ve built between them feels obliterated with Urgo gently urging them forward to look beyond regulations.

His teeth nip at her bottom lip and his tongue works its way into her mouth as he walks her back against the cool concrete wall, trapping her between the wall and his body. 

She rips her mouth from his, panting. 

“This—this isn’t us, sir. Oh, god.” 

His lips latch onto the juncture of her neck and shoulder, laving a mark there, while his leg slips between her thighs and presses up, giving her something hard and hot to rock against.

He kisses her deeply, swallowing down her groan before breaking the kiss but keeping his lips close to hers. 

“Like hell it isn’t,” he growls against her lips, pulling back and cupping her face in his hands. “He can make suggestions only, Sam. We’re doing this because we want to.”

And that’s good enough for her.

And she doesn’t know if it’s because Urgo is lighting her brain and pleasure center up like a Christmas tree or if it’s just because it’s him but she feels on fire, rolling her hips and body against his, demanding more of his body, more of his mouth on her skin–just more, more, more. 

He seems to be on the edge of losing complete control, gripping her hips hard and thrusting against her through the layers of clothes that separate them, still. His palm slips up over her breast to squeeze and she gasps and hitches a leg over his hip to bring him closer to her. She wants to snap the last thread of control.

He’s got fingers working over her center through the fabric of her BDUs and she’s trying to get him off just as quickly, fingertips dipping beneath his waistband to stroke at hot skin before giving up and palming him through his pants.

Both of them are shaking and groaning, panting hot and sticky against the other’s skin, and Jack doesn’t give a damn if it  _is_  Urgo that brought her to him. He’s bene fighting for so long, fighting how much he wants her, that he forgot what it felt like to just let go.

But the thought of Urgo makes his fingers slow and makes his kisses gentle until they’re just stroking at each other languidly, soft and searching.

He kisses her jaw and ear and mouth, tongue brushing over her lips. She whines and presses forward, chasing his mouth.

“When we do this, Sam,” he starts, smoothing his hands over her ribs and hips. “It’s going to be on our terms.”

She whimpers and clings to him, burying her face in his neck, body still humming from his touch. He smoothes a hand over her hair and closes his eyes, willing his body to relax and return to normal. 

“I know,” he whispers, brushing his lips over the crown of her head.

“Someday, right, sir?”

Her words breathe hot against his neck and he holds her tighter.

“Yeah, Carter. Someday.”


End file.
